I think I’ve been pretty clear in the past that I think going to Wal-Mart is generally something you’ll regret. Visiting a Wal-Mart Super Center the week of Thanksgiving is about as much fun as dragging your hand across a cheese grater. Despite that, I have done the Black Friday thing in recent years because it’s an excellent way to spend time with my sisters without our husbands or kids. Because the husbands and kids are all smart enough to NOT GO.
But I was in Corydon this week, and the dog was nearly out of food, and a pug’s gotta eat. So I thought “I’m literally just getting ONE THING. A bag of dog food. I’m in, I’m out, and nobody gets hurt.”
Since it’s me, I couldn’t help getting distracted. This time, by the heinously awful Christmas gifts already on display everywhere you turn. What makes them especially heinous is that you know, deep down, that they wouldn’t be there at Wal-Mart if there weren’t a ton of people who will actually buy these things.
We are a lost society full of people with painfully bad judgment. Behold (and hint: mousing over the image offers extra bonus hilarity):
Yes. That is an entire rack of transparent camouflage lingerie. In two different patterns, because you just know that it would kill the mood for your 40-degree sylvan rendez-vous if you showed up in jungle green when the occasion CLEARLY called for oak forest tan.
I have two vitally important words for you, lady friend who is lucky enough to receive one of these from your virile huntsman this Christmas:
Let’s imagine for a moment the conversation that will almost certainly be leading up to this purchase:
“Dangit, Bubba. I have no idea what to get the little woman this year.”
“Well, what does she like?”
“She likes them books with the sparkly vampires, but she’s got alla them already.”
“She seen all the movies? I hear there’s a new one out.”
“Yup. That’s no good.”
“Well, lookee here! Problem solved!”
Odds of either Bubba or his gift-challenged friend actually wondering what the stuff smells like? 1,000,000 to 1.
We’ve beat up on the redneck stereotypes enough in this post. Time to let the videogamers have it.
I have no idea what Commander Shepherd smells like. I’m guessing, judging by the trailer for Mass Effect 3, he may carry the odor of the entire human race soiling its pants as it faces certain annihilation. That or maybe sweat, because none of your uniform options look like they breathe like Egyptian cotton.
But I think we can all agree that he probably doesn’t smell like “desperate, trying-too-hard single guy.” Next week I’m expecting the Skyrim/Drakkar Noir kiosk to show up.
Have you ever gotten a gift that made you go “Huh?” Or given one that made the entire room cringe with awkward? Do you participate in the Black Friday crazyness? Vent that holiday angst in the comments. You’ll feel better. Probably.